


Naughty or nice?

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 12 Days Of Avengers 2012, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Roleplay, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big man from up North sends one of his trusted operatives to assess whether Natasha has been naughty or nice this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naughty or nice?

Natasha was curled up in her own apartment on her own couch with Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" (for the nth time, her traditional holiday read) when there was a knock on the door. _Who could that be_ , she thought, _it's Christmas Eve and everybody thinks I'm in Prague_.  
  
(It was the only way to fend off the idiocy that was Christmas in America. Natasha was not sentimental in any way, and syrupy music and white elephant gifts were anathema to her.)  
  
She considered not answering the door for a moment. Then her curiosity got the better of her and she put down the book and went noiselessly over to peek through the spyhole. The person who had knocked was standing in the hall outside her apartment, alone, dressed in plain black slacks and a dark green v-neck sweater. He was staring calmly at the spyhole as if he could wait until spring came. Knowing that he probably could, Natasha opened the door.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked as her guest entered and she shut and bolted the door.  
  
He produced a wallet from his back pocket (she didn't know he wore clothing with back pockets) and flashed a badge at her.  
  
"Routine inspection," he announced. "We do spot checks every year; the big man up North feels it keeps people on their toes the rest of the time. Never know when we'll show up."  
  
Natasha fought down a laugh. Her visitor was obviously serious. She'd never seen him so serious, and that was saying a lot.  
  
"Of course," she said. "Can I get you anything? Drink, candy cane?"  
  
He gave her a look and said, "Bribery does not become you, Miss Romanov."  
  
"Hospitality," she shot back. "It's the least I could do, you having to work Christmas Eve and all. But suit yourself."  
  
The faintest glimpse of a smile flitted across his unassuming features. "Oh, I will."  
  
Natasha refused to follow him around trying to figure out his game, instead going back to the couch and her book and glass of wine. She listened to him prowling around her apartment, opening and closing doors and drawers, very quietly.  
  
When he came back into the front room, she looked blandly up at him and asked, "Do I pass?"  
  
He actually looked a bit disappointed. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Your apartment does, Miss Romanov, but I'm afraid you're a different story."  
  
She frowned and he went on, "In spite of your publicly commendable behavior, and your apparently unreproachable living quarters, I must conduct a search of your person to determine the final result of my inspection."  
  
"What's that, when it's speaking English?" She crossed her arms and smirked.  
  
"The bottom line here is: have you been naughty, or nice, this year, Natasha?"  
  
She stared up at him. This could go in so many directions and she couldn't read him at all.  
  
"What if I've been neither? Or both?"  
  
He shook his head. "I wouldn't take that attitude if I were you. In any case I would not take your word for it; I'm required to perform a hands-on determination."  
  
She stood up and faced him; he didn't even blink.  
  
"I'd like to see you try it," she said in a low voice.  
  
"Very well," he said.  
  
In a flash Natasha found herself looking at the floor, from her position over the man's knee as he sat on her couch. One of his hands gripped the back of her neck, the other was clamped around her thigh, and his knees in black gabardine were spread and braced under her.  
  
"Hands-on, huh," she muttered. "I bet this is your favorite part of the job."  
  
"It does have its perks. Now, Natasha, tell me: have you been naughty or nice this year?"  
  
By now Natasha had gleaned enough hints to guess what he had in mind. He was good at that, showing up and dropping a scenario in her proverbial lap and seeing how quickly she put the pieces together.  
  
His hand moved to cup her between the legs of her sweatpants, fingers digging in, not quite on any tender places, just threatening.  
  
"Naughty or nice?"  
  
"I refuse to answer on the grounds that - hey!"  
  
He took hold of her waistband and pulled down her sweats, slowly, leaving them wrapped around her thighs, her bottom bared to his view and her mound bare against his slacks.  
  
"Naughty it is," he decided.  
  
He proceeded to spank every inch of her ass, varying angle and intensity, enough to sting and heat her skin, not enough to cause damage or serious pain. She kept her mouth shut and panted through her nose, refusing to display in any way just how aroused she was getting. Aroused - because she had a fairly good idea how this was going to play out.  
  
She decided to throw herself into the part.  
  
"Let me go," she growled. "I'll make it worth your while. Leave my poor ass alone."  
  
There was a pause, during which the hand that hand been spanking her palmed her buttock.  
  
"I'll do anything," she promised. "Anything you want."  
  
"Bribery again, Miss Romanov?"  
  
"Think of it as...compliance." She smirked where she thought he couldn't see her.  
  
Many people underestimated his agility and speed, to their dismay. Natasha was not surprised by the swiftness of his motions, only by the position in which she landed. He flipped her over on her back on the couch and yanked her sweats off the rest of the way, laying her sprawled out with one foot on the floor and the other perched on the back of the couch.  
  
Phil Coulson stood over her, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, and then leaned down to look her in the eye.  
  
"Anything?" he inquired, and there was that mischievous gleam in his eye.  
  
"Anything," Natasha said, firmly. To emphasize her point she tugged her t-shirt off and flung it aside, baring herself completely before her inquisitor.  
  
His hands dropped to his fly.  
  
"I might have to change my assessment," said Phil thoughtfully.


End file.
